At , we do not teach biology. We teach echoes .
When The Quickening ends, you are wheeled to the “Delivery Wing.” The doors have no handles. The walls are lined with wet, red velvet. spooky pregnant school: the quickening
You will file into the basement auditorium. The lights are the color of a bruise. You will lie on a gurney. A cold, stethoscope-like device—too long, too flexible—will be inserted into your navel. At , we do not teach biology
“What is the square root of a nursery rhyme?” Question 2: “If you have three shadows, but only one mother, which shadow carries the scissors?” Question 3 (Practical): “Make the thing inside you kick in perfect 4/4 time. On the off-beat, whisper the name of the girl who will not survive delivery week.” The walls are lined with wet, red velvet
It is written in the style of a (a "lost student handbook entry"). THE QUICKENING An excerpt from the St. Agatha’s Guide to Term 3 (Unabridged, 1974) Warning to the Newly Swollen: By the time you feel the first flutter, it is already too late to withdraw.
The last page of the handbook is blank, but if you hold it up to a candle, it reads: “Congratulations. You have given birth to a final grade. It has your eyes. It will never stop crying. And it already knows everything you will ever do wrong.” Want me to turn this into a short story, a TTRPG one-shot (“The Quickening Session”), or a series of fake detention slips from this school?